Quote

Books could be an incredible adventure. I stayed under my blanket and barely moved, and no one would have guessed how my mind raced and my heart soared with stories.

Paula McLain

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Paula McLain
Age: 59
Born: 1965
Born: October 7
Author
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Fresno
California
Books
Raced
Stories
Guessed
Book
Blanket
Heart
Barely
Mind
Stayed
Would
Incredible
Adventure
Moved
Soared

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I would gladly have climbed out of my skin and into his that night, because I believed that was what love meant.
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But when Bumby nursed, his fist clutching the fabric of my robe, his eyes soft and bottomless and locked on mine, as if I were the very heart of his universe, I couldn't help but melt into him.
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But love is love. It makes you do terribly stupid things.
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Why is it every other person you meet says they're an artist? A real artist doesn't need to gas on about it, he doesn't have time. He does his work and sweats it out in silence, and no one can help him at all.
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I knew that I could hate him all I wanted for the way he was hurting me, but I couldn’t ever stop loving him, absolutely, for what he was.
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This was my one brush with love. Was it love? It felt awful enough. I spent another two years crawling around in the skin of it, smoking too much and growing too thin and having stray thoughts of jumping from my balcony like a tortured heroine in a Russian novel.
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More and more I find myself at a loss for words and didn't want to hear other people talking either. Their conversations seemed false and empty. I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.
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Nothing hurts if you don't let it.
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She was also incredibly confident, with a way of moving and talking that communicated that she didn't need anyone to tell her she was beautiful or worthwhile.
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I miss good old-fashioned honorable people just trying to make something of life. Simply, without hurting anyone else. I know that makes me a sap.
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All that was left for me was a terrible kind of paralysis, this waiting game, this heartbreak game.
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Though I often looked for one, I finally had to admit that there could be no cure for Paris.
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To marry was to say you believed in the future and in the past, too-that history and tradition and hope could stay knit together to hold you up.
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Happiness is so awfully complicated, but freedom isn't. You're either tied down or you're not.
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... and yet he could also be very charming, in a bookish, infinitely apologetic way.
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And sometimes I think there isn’t anything to us but our mistakes.
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I'd never met anyone so vibrant or alive. He moved like light.
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There was only today to throw yourself into without thinking about tomorrow, let alone forever. To keep you from thinking, there was liquor, an ocean's worth at least, all the usual vices and plenty of rope to hang yourself with. Love is a beautiful liar.
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Dogs are easy. If their tails are up and their eyes are soft, you're in.
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I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.
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